The Days That Never Were
by Whouffle
Summary: Clara is harbouring a secret from the Doctor, but in dire circumstances she discovers she was wrong, it's too late to help and her life is plunged into danger.
1. Chapter 1

The Doctor loved Clara and she loved him. Their relationship was perfect for both of them; they never hid anything from the other, they shared their pain and their success. It was like they were married. That was one thing the Doctor had always longed for, but he doubted Clara would want to commit to him for the rest of her life, so he never asked.

Certain aspects of their relationship were, of course, intimate. They slept together, well, Clara slept and the Doctor held her in his arms and watched, they kissed, hugged, had sex (which was the only thing that could get the Doctor to sleep). They were happy, and completely in love. He trusted her with his life and she trusted him with hers.

So how come she wouldn't tell him?

That was the one thought that kept going through the Doctor's mind. There was something happening to Clara, and she refused to tell him what. This hurt him, what was so bad that she couldn't tell him? He had told her about Gallifrey, his family, his friends, his past, yet she was harbouring secrets from him. Yes, he understood, things that were personal should never be told, but he'd opened up to her about everything, and she wouldn't open up about whatever was troubling her. What he hated the most was the fact that she wouldn't explain her sudden bout of sickness. She would spend her days in bed, looking pale, and occasionally rising to run to the bathroom and throw up. He hated seeing her like this, but she wouldn't tell him what was wrong, so he could not help her.

After a week, she was back to her old self. She seemed happier, even though she was still clearly ill (her pale cheeks explained that), she was beaming. He didn't understand how one could be so happy during illness, but he didn't question it. He was just happy to see his Clara was happy again. It warmed his hearts, knowing she was happy and safe. Yet she was still hiding something from him. And now she made it blatantly obvious. She enjoyed her secret. She'd ask him if he wanted to know, of course he'd say yes, then she said to ask tomorrow. It frustrated him more and more each time, as well as upsetting him more and more. She still wouldn't tell him why she was ill. All he could do was worry about her.

The weeks went by, and still she said nothing. She was still beaming, still looking sick (and occasionally throwing up) but she was happy.

Most of the time anyway.

She had been sleeping badly, the Doctor had noted, but she never admitted it. She seemed to think it was a sign of weakness, showing her true feelings.

One particular night, she had awoken from a nightmare with a sudden wave of nausea, and had sprung up to go to the bathroom. The Doctor sighed sadly, getting up and walking after her to make sure she was okay.

When he found her, she was lying on the bathroom floor, crying so so much. He realised he'd never seen his beloved cry, and he instantly hated it. His first move was to try and calm her, then he'd ask what was wrong and sort everything out. He helped her to sit up, letting her head rest against his chest. Her ears were pressed against his ribs, listening to the gentle lullaby that was his two, steady beating hearts. She began to calm almost instantly. It was clear she was still upset, but being in his arms gave her a feeling if comfort.

At least she'd never told him, now she wouldn't have to hurt him. But she didn't get away with it that easily, and the Doctor couldn't help himself. He had to ask, he couldn't let her suffer alone.

"Clara." He whispered softly into her ear, hoping he wouldn't upset her again. "Clara, what's wrong?"

She let out a pained sob, she'd kept this from the Doctor for so long, he would have been so happy, but as they always did, things went wrong. She wanted to tell him, she really did, but there was a lump in her throat, of fear she'd hurt him, fear she was going to break his hearts if she spoke. But he stayed by her, even though she remained silent. He could see in her eyes she wanted to talk, and understood the silence was her trying to figure out what to say. He could feel her shaking a little in fear, so he held her a little tighter, kissing her forehead gently.

"It's okay..." He whispered, reassuring her. "You can tell me anything Clara, you know you can. I won't be annoyed or upset, I'll help."

The words cut straight through her, if he knew what it was she was upset about, he would be annoyed at her for not telling him, and upset it had happened.

"Doctor I..." She took a deep breath, looking up at him. He nodded a little, telling her to go on. "Doctor, I was pregnant."

His face instantly lit up - his wife was pregnant! He laughed - they'd be parents. His mind was suddenly racing over everything that he'd do, every place he'd take their child.

"Clara that's-" He stopped mid sentence. Her words finally sinking in. Was. Was pregnant. Past tense. He suddenly felt numb, understanding exactly why she was upset. Internally, he was screaming in anguish, he was crying, this was something even he couldn't understand; why did this happen to people? He wanted to cry with her, but he couldn't. He knew she needed him, and he wouldn't be able to help if he showed his own grief.

She lay in his arms, the pain eating away at her. She'd spent her nights dreaming of her, the Doctor and their child, the adventures they'd have, the stars they'd see, the people they'd save. Now none of it was going to happen. Days that should have been but never were.


	2. Chapter 2

_Authors Note: I know this was supposed to be a one shot, but I had ideas and motivation, and I lack that a lot these days so it's not going to waste! My knowledge of the classic characters is very limited, I don't really know how they left that well, I just took the examples that I used in here from a book I've read. _

* * *

The Doctor couldn't mourn. He had to look after Clara. It was days until she was back to her normal, sassy self, even though he knew she still hurt but she was masking the pain for him. All this time, he had let the pain eat away at him inside. He always felt sick with guilt, he always blamed himself and he couldn't escape it.

Each day, he'd make sure Clara was okay. He'd comfort her when she was upset; make sure she had some form of distraction to help her when her pain consumed her. He didn't want to lose Clara; he loved her too much to lose her. He did everything he could to stop her falling into the deep and seemingly endless pit of depression, which he was sure she scraped the edges of several times, but he managed to save her each time. He managed to cope with his. He was a thousand years old; he knew the Universe didn't care anymore. It'd given him Clara, but that was all he'd ever get. And he didn't care, that was all he needed. Still, the thought of being a father again then being told that he wasn't going to be was something new.

He and Clara didn't speak for several days; neither of them knew what to say.  
It was on the third day when Clara tried to strike up a conversation with him.  
She'd taken a shower and he had returned to the console. He had his hands clamped around the edge, his head hanging low. It was his first time he was alone, and he was finally mourning. It felt so good to release all of the pain and sorrow that had built up over the past few days. For the first time since he was told, he could cry openly. And he did.

He began to cry. And he hated it. He didn't cry; he tried not to anyway. He always had to stay strong for his companion, but this time he was alone. He had no one to be strong for. So what was the point?

He sunk to the floor, putting his head in his arms. He blamed himself. If he'd have known she was pregnant, he could have helped; he could have done something, _anything_. And Clara, his beautiful Clara, she'd been so happy. It was like every emotion was crushed, out of her at the same time, replaced with a numbness and pain. And he hated that she was masking the pain for him.

Clara stood at the top of the stairs silently, looking over at him. It killed her to see him crying. She'd never seen it happen before. He'd been hiding this from her. He'd bottled up everything. She knew that he was over 1000, he'd have a lot of pain to hide, a lot of emotions he'd bottled up over the years. She wanted to go down and comfort him, but suspected he'd pretend nothing was wrong and continue hiding everything. She didn't want him to do that. If she had to leave him in solitude to express his emotions, then she would. She'd leave him, hide somewhere in the TARDIS for a few days. Wait until he was ready to talk again. But she hesitated, taking a step down towards him. He heard her, looking up straight away. He wiped his eyes, putting on what had to be the most obviously fake smile she'd ever seen.

"Doctor?" She asked quietly, taking a few more steps to stand in front of him. He looked older. He always looked so much older when something was wrong. And to him, she looked so much younger. He always thought she looked so vulnerable when she was so upset. He knew she'd hate it if he ever mentioned it. She'd probably slap him, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Clara…" He whispered quietly, taking her hands in his softly. He brushed his thumb over her knuckles, trying to offer her any sort of comfort. "Are you okay?"

She nodded quickly to reply, squeezing his hands tightly. "You need to start talking. You've been there for me, and I've needed you. Now it's my turn." She took a deep breath, she was going against everything she was telling him to do, supressing her emotions. She couldn't show any emotion if he was going to talk to her, he'd stop and he'd try and comfort her. He looked at her uneasily.

"I'm over a thousand Clara, it'll take time."

"And I've got it. Please?" She asked, she sounded sad, but she fought back her emotions. "Please?" She repeated. He sighed, sitting down with her and beginning to talk.

# # #

He was right. He was over a thousand. It did take time. She was right. He'd been bottling everything up for years. He'd suffered for years. His granddaughter, Susan, it killed him that he left her. He missed her so, _so, _much. He was almost crying at the memory of her, it'd been so long… But she hadn't let him dwell on it. She didn't let him stop talking, she knew it hurt him now, but it'd help. Talking.

He had continued for a while. Adric hurt. That really hurt him. She understood why he blamed himself, but she didn't agree. It wasn't his fault Adric was killed, stuck on the freighter that crashed into Earth. The TARDIS console was damaged, he couldn't help that. He couldn't save him.

Rose. Oh, that name had hurt him. Rose Tyler; stuck in a parallel Universe. He was truly in love with her. He'd never see her again; she'd never see him again. Yes, she had a clone of him to live with her. But he loved her more than anyone else he'd ever met, and she knew it was hurting him. But she urged him to keep going.

Then there was the Noble girl, the girl that saved the Universe and had to forget him or she'd die. The girl the Doctor could never return to see, however much he wanted to.

And then there were the Pond's. It took him a long, long time before he could even open his mouth to talk about them. They were his family, his new family. Their daughter was his wife, but she'd already died. Amelia and Rory were his best friend, he loved them dearly, and he hated the fate that had come of them. Weeping Angels, they were called, they were stone, only moved when you weren't looking, and sent you back in time. They had died first to cause a paradox, so they never died, but then they were sent back in time by the Angels, and the Doctor could never save them. It'd destroy New York. He took off his glasses, explaining they were Amy's. He took the last page from his pocket, showing it to her and explaining she had written it for him, to make sure he was okay.

Finally, he took a deep breath and explained her. He'd met her twice before - once in the future, once in the past. Both times she'd died. She felt her heart stop when he said that, then decided making it a third wouldn't help him. She'd crashed in a ship, the Daleks had killed her, converted her into one of them. Then she'd sacrificed what was left of her, the mind inside the metal, she'd died again when she took down the shields for him and the Daleks bombarded the planet.  
The second time was in Victorian London. She'd accompanied him onto his cloud, where he'd been hiding since he'd lost the Ponds, and she was taken by the previous Governess in the form of an ice creature. It pulled her off, and before he could get to her, she was dead on the ground. She was brought back long enough to talk to him for a few minutes, but that was it.

She didn't know what to say. He didn't expect her to. She'd just listened to over a thousand years of sorrow in only a few hours. He sat there, shaking and crying. Clara wrapped her arms around him and let him cry. Though the sound of his sobs echoed in her ears, she couldn't help but feel glad he wasn't hiding anything from her. She sat in silence with him, thinking about what he'd said about her previous lives. She didn't want to admit it, but a part of her wanted to hate him from keeping that from her.


	3. Chapter 3

Clara was bedridden. Her illness had returned; she was worse than before though. One minute she was shivering, the next she was overheating. The Doctor's concern for her had grown exponentially. He always worried about her, but now she was worse than ever - more ill than ever before. And he hated it. He hated having to sit by her bedside and watch her body forcing the little she had ate back up. He hated having to hear the sobs of pain caused by her illness. He hated having to see her in such a state, but she still denied her condition. She wouldn't allow him to move her from the bed, though he had decided that'd only worsen her condition. She wouldn't admit that she needed help, proper help, even if it only meant finding out what was wrong with her.

She was honestly scared. She'd never been this ill before. She wondered if it was a side effect of the miscarriage, throwing up until there was nothing left and then continuing. She didn't want the Doctor by her side either. She knew it upset him, and he was upset enough. She knew he'd suffered enough, too much, and she was now trying to force herself to never mention it if something was wrong. She didn't want to upset him further.

Days past, she showed no sign of recovery, but her stomach had discarded any and all of its contents. The only good that came from this was the fact that she only felt ill. But she couldn't drink or eat, and she was too weak to argue with the Doctor when he picked her up and carried her to the console room. He placed her gently on the chair. She didn't have enough strength to sit up, so he made sure she was resting upright. He walked around the console slowly. He was making sure he was careful when he flew; he didn't want harm to come to his wife.

He stopped in his tracks, looking over to her. He'd called her his wife. He smiled weakly at the thought of marrying Clara. She was beautiful and she was brave. She was smart and she was funny. The more he thought, the less likely he was to find a fault with her. As he continued around the console, he concluded that he loved her, that she was flawless, and that when she was better he would ask to marry her. If she got better.  
_No_, he thought to himself, when she got better_. When_.

He walked over to Clara, who, for some reason, was smiling. Naturally, he had to ask what was making her feel better.

"What's the smile for?" He asked, picking her up gently. Clara let out the weakest of laughs, but the sound of it made the Doctor's hearts warm.

"You realise..." She began softly, closing her eyes and sinking into his arms. "You think aloud Doctor." To her response, he turned a very dark shade of red. She'd heard his plans of asking for her hand, and him confessing everything he loved about her.  
"Of course." He looked at her, confused by this for a moment. She stared at him until he realised what she was saying, to which he beamed. He leaned over, kissing her forehead softly.

"Just get better." He said simply. "Get better and we can arrange exactly what you want." He brushed his hand over her cheeks softly, walking outside. There was a hospital. An alien one. It was full of more things than she could imagine; more creatures than she had seen at Akhaten. She simply couldn't take it, she was weak as she was, and this overwhelmed her completely. She was lucky to be in the Doctor's arms, or she would have fallen to the floor unconscious.

# # #

The Doctor was by Clara's side when she woke up. She couldn't see very well at first, her vision impaired by the use of a drug to help her recover into a stabilised condition. He had her hand in his gently, running his thumb across her knuckles. She shivered at the touch, and then smiled. He'd slipped a ring on her finger. He smiled softly at her.

"Morning then?" He joked, laughing weakly. If she wasn't ill, she was sure she'd have hit him.

"Morning." She confirmed. She let her head fall back into the pillow and she closed her eyes again. The Doctor watched closely, looking for any sign that something was wrong. A nurse approached the two of them, beckoning the Doctor to follow her out of the room and into the corridor. He was hesitant to leave Clara's side, but they were in a hospital, she was safe and she would be well looked after.

He walked out into the corridor with the nurse to speak with her.

"Is she okay?!" He asked desperately.

"Your friend will be fine." She reassured, smiling softly. "But we cannot heal her. The body is naturally ill, morning sickness, but something is making it worse."

"Morning sickness?" He looked curious. "But she miscarried, she told me about a week ago..."

The nurse furrowed her brow." Our tests showed that she was still pregnant, how does she know she miscarried?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but she hasn't told him. "I..." He began unsurely. He really didn't know. "She never said."

The nurse glanced over his shoulder, a small smile on her face. "She's still pregnant." She assured, keeping watch on something happening inside the room. "Two children."

The Doctor's face turned incredibly pale, the nurse laughed softly at his reaction. He nodded. "Right... I-I'll go and tell Clara the news." He regained the colour in his cheeks and beamed. He returned inside, looking at the bed.

"Clara!" He smiled. "Clara y-" he paused, frowning. "Clara?!" He turned on the spot, catching sight of something in the corner of his eye.  
"CLARA!"

# # #

On a strange, dark alien world, several thousand light years away at the other end of that particular galaxy, there was an especially strange, dark cave. In that cave, there were several figures. Only one looked remotely human. The one that looked human removed a hood from over their head, their face now visible, yet a veil still covered their most disfigured features. The lopsided nose. The missing eye. The hole on the side of the jaw with a second tongue flicking out over small, sharp teeth. She sounded female, speaking with a soft yet poisonous voice.

"How many?" She asked; the figures around her exchanging a glance. The smallest of the three spoke.

"Three." He paused for a moment, looking over to the tallest.

"Four." He confirmed. "But three living. And two of those are still..."  
He looked at the remaining one for the word on the tip of his tongue.

"Three. One is pregnant with the other two." He chuckled a little, a smirk growing on his face. "And boy are they rare." He leant forwards, whispering something to the female where her ears should have been. The other two didn't hear, but she was more than interested.

"Name your price." She stated.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time the Doctor had registered what he'd seen in the corner it'd vanished and he instantly sunk to his knees, crying. He knew he should be doing something, but he was overwhelmed for several minutes. He'd lost her and their children. This was the woman he trusted enough to reveal his past to, to marry her and promise his hearts to. She was right; they should never have come here. In that moment, he decided he'd lived too long.

He stood up slowly, making his way back to the TARDIS. He shut and locked the doors behind him, taking Amy's glasses from his pocket and putting them on his face. He walked up to the console, looking at his reflection in the scanner. He looked older, more worthless to the Universe. He looked like any old human that'd be dead within the week. He sighed, knowing he was Time Lord, and that he wouldn't be dead within the week. Even if he was, he'd simply regenerate. He pressed a few buttons, and instantly the console fell darker. All the buttons at once stopped lighting up and flashing, the lights around the console dimmed. The TARDIS looked dead. It looked just as it did after he lost the Pond's. And he wasn't about to change it.

He took one last look at the console and wandered up the stairs, walking into the darkness of his ship.

# # #

The TARDIS was a sentient ship. She was alive. She was intelligent. She always took the Doctor where he needed to go. She could sense his despair, his pain, his guilt. She understood what he'd done, why he'd done it. But she couldn't deny that her mad man was an idiot. She was aware of the fact that he had proposed to Clara, albeit an accident, but she put aside her jealousy for a moment. He needed her help, and she had to find a way to give it to him.

# # #

Clara was fully conscious during what took place, and everything seemed so fast she didn't know what was happening. When she found herself alone, gagged and tied up, she tried to run everything through her head again.

_She was in the hospital bed. The Doctor had just left her side to talk to the nurse in the corridor. She presumed that could only mean it was bad news. She sat up slowly, deciding to prepare herself for what would come. After several deep breaths, she looked around at her surroundings. It looked strangely human. A white room, smelling strongly of disinfectant and poorly chosen flowers as a get well gift from a loved one. The next thing she knew, there was a sharp pain in her back, a sudden wave of sickness and shortage of air swiftly followed. She tried her best to call for help, but the pain was blinding and the lack of air wasn't helping. Not a noise came out of her mouth, her vision turned blurry, the colours faded as she struggled to keep her eyes open. But she remained conscious._  
_She couldn't see, but she was alive._

A sudden touch brought her back from her thoughts. She shivered, someone's fingers running through her hair slowly. She could hear their breathing, and a few tears pricked her eyes. She needed the Doctor, she wanted him to be at her side to save her, to get her out of trouble, or be in it with her. But this time it was just her. Completely alone against an unknown enemy, and completely vulnerable with her sickness and lack of weapons.

The fingers were soon pulled sharply from her hair and she attempted a quick intake of air, almost choking on her gag in the process. A few moments later, there was a firm grip on one side of her head. She began to breathe as heavily as her restraints would allow her, feeling something curl over her face and towards the corner of her eye. It lifted up after a moment, leaving a sticky, oozing slime on the side of her face. It burnt, but she couldn't cry out for help, however desperately she tried. Then, the hand that still had a tight grip on her head was gone, soon replaced on her arm. Whatever was happening, whoever was doing this, quickly worked their way down her body, feeling every part of her body. She hated the feeling, squirming and trying to call out in protest at each touch. But she received nothing except a burn from the slime (it only took her a short time to figure out it was corrosive, and she stopped moving after that). She closed her eyes softly, longing for unconsciousness to pull her from this world and take her back to the Doctor. Her Doctor.

_Clara felt the blinding pain again, but now she couldn't see. It was cold, and the journey to wherever they were had been less than comfortable. It was several moments before she bent over to release the contents of her stomach over the floor. She spluttered and what little remained in her body now spread across the floor. She fell to her knees weakly, but stood up in an instant when she felt a crack of pain down her back. A whip. But it hurt more, chains. Chains being used as a whip._

_"Hello?" She called out, sounding braver than she felt. "Hello? Please I... I'm looking for my friend. The Doctor."_

_No reply._  
_If anything, she was sure she heard something growling, a low rumble behind her. Perhaps that was what had whipped her. She turned around on the spot and screamed loudly, before the gag was applied and the chains were bound to her legs and arms._

That was the last she could remember, being brought back to reality once more by another strange touch.

# # #

The TARDIS landed well, if by well you mean on its side with alarms going off. The Doctor unwillingly got up from his isolation and walked into the console room, which was made much harder now he had to walk on the walls which had become the floor, and not fall down the doors that became traps doors. It took him around thirty minutes to manoeuvre his way back to the console, which he found on fire. He took off his coat, tossing it on top in a futile attempt to extinguish the flames. He walked around to the screen, his fingers moving up to it slowly. He gasped at the sight, not believing it was true. It couldn't be. But... She was alive. He hit his head as hard as he could, he could have saved her.

# # #

The Veiled Mistress, as she was known, was a smuggler - a trader of illegal goods across quadrants of the Universe. She was well known for her work, but she kept herself hidden away in the shadows. But recently she had emerged.

She had begun trading aliens, it made her richer and richer, and no one stopped her. Because no one could stop her. And now she had the most vulnerable, most important woman she had ever traded at her fingertips. But this time, she was holding onto her. She was reluctant to let her go once she had purchased her. She was impossible, she was pretty, and she was carrying the children of a Time Lord.


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor hit his head repetitively, cursing in Gallifreyan over and over. After a few moments of doing this he ran out of the TARDIS as quickly as he could, then back inside. He looked back at the screen, scratching his chin. That was different, very different. The screen was showing what was outside, but not what was outside at that exact moment, a window into the past (or future) was outside the box. He would walk through it, and he'd be in another time. It must be for hiding whatever needed hiding - for example, a person, specifically Clara. Hide them in another time, and no one will ever see them. He cursed again and walked back out, pausing before he stepped into another time. He took a deep breath and called out for Clara. After all, the TARDIS had brought him here, he must be needed.

"Clara?" He whispered urgently, not wanting to alarm anyone, but wanting to find her desperately. "Clara, where are you?!" He took out a torch from his pocket, switching it on and looking around the room. It was still dark, and he still struggled to see, but at least there was enough light to stop him from walking into obstacles.

"Clara?!" He started walking around, stepping carefully so his steps didn't echo. He listened closely for anyone else's footsteps, or a voice, specifically the voice or footsteps of his fiancé.

"Clara, you've got to be here somewhere. Come out, wherever you are…" He paused. "Please? I'm getting desperate." He took a few more steps forward, then stopping abruptly in his tracks. He'd heard something, a cry. Yes, defiantly a cry. He turned to where the noise was coming from, hoping that it was Clara. Well, hoping wasn't really the right word. He wanted it to be Clara; he wanted to have found her so he knew she was safe, but he didn't want to hear her crying, because that meant she was being hurt. And the last thing he wanted right now was her being hurt. In fact, the last thing he wanted ever was her to be hurt.

He found the source of the noise around half an hour later, his face falling at the sight.

"Oh no…" He whispered. "No…"

# # #

Clara had finally drifted off into a light sleep. She could still feel what was happening to her, but she didn't wake up, her dreams simply became a mix of her mind and reality.

_She opened her eyes, looking around. She was still gagged and bound, but something had changed. How long had she been sleeping?! And… Hadn't she miscarried?! She must have slept for months on end, how else could she have been what appeared to be nine months pregnant. She tried to cry out, but then remembered the gag. She felt herself begin to cry, tears trickling down her cheeks. When the figure she had come to recognise over the months saw the tears, she received a whip, the sharp crack of metal piercing her ears as much as the chains pierced her skin. She felt faint, looking down at the blood trickling down her leg. But there wasn't blood. If it wasn't for the gag, she would have screamed. Amniotic fluid, or in other words, her waters had broken. She wanted desperately to scream for the Doctor, she wanted him more than ever, she needed him. This was his child; she wasn't going to give birth without him at her side._

At this point she was woken up by a loud scream – her own scream. The gag had been torn from her mouth and she could take deep, desperate breaths. She looked down in an effort to confirm that she was now awake, and her dream was just that. A dream. But it wasn't. She could still feel the amniotic fluid running down her thighs, and all she could do was scream. At least she could do that, she was incredibly thankful that she could do that. And so began the several, long, painful hours of labour and calling for the Doctor.

# # #

The Veiled Mistress had been informed that her recent experiment had succeeded, and her recent purchase of the Time Lords lady friend was in labour. She was down to her cell more quickly than the guards could crack the whip. She smiled at the sight. The girl was in a lot of pain, and she'd be in more pain shortly. One of the guards nodded to her.

"She is stable." The Mistress smiled at this.

"Thank you. I no longer require your services." She walked over to his side. "Time to expire." She nodded over his shoulder, and the next thing he felt was a cold slime sticking to his head. Only a little at first, but slowly there was more and more, covering him completely and then removing itself from him. A thick layer of goo was in its place, and was starting to slowly corrode through his skin. The Mistress smiled at the handiwork, and then turned to Clara who was lying down, chained and bound in many ways.

"Miss Oswald, I presume." She quickly replaced the gag so she couldn't talk back. "I hope you're going to enjoy it here. Once I have your children, some of my guards require payment. And they don't take cash." She winked. "Give yourself another hour, first will be born. Twenty minutes later, second will be still born. Have an hour to rest before you become the toy for the guards. Don't worry, they share." She stood up, watching her try to cry out in agony, trying to protest about what was to come of her. "And if you scream, I'll just lend them the whip and chains." She hissed and walked out.

# # #

The Doctor swallowed nervously. The time jump, it was too far. Just a bit anyway. Perhaps 8 months too far. He exhaled a deep breath, reaching forward shakily, picking up the small child lying cold and naked, hidden away behind the rocks of the cave.

"Oh no." He repeated, his eyes swelling up with tears. He brushed a thumb on the child's cheek, trying to offer them some comfort for them to cease their crying. He placed the child back down for a moment, taking his coat off and wrapping the child up for warmth. He had no idea how long they had been there, but he had to find the child's mother. All he could think of was the worst, that this was his child, his and Clara's, and she was still out there somewhere. He kept trying to push the thought from his head, but he couldn't. He looked down at the child again, shaking his head. "I'm just going to take you back to my ship." He said softly. "I'll find you some proper clothes, I'll make sure you're healthy and well fed, and then we can find your parents." He offered the child a weak smile, but they were already asleep.

The sleeping babe did make the Doctor's return journey more interesting and more dangerous, someone could notice they had been taken, or the child could wake up and start crying, but thankfully, he made it back inside the TARDIS with the two of them safe. He started the basic checks, the scanner doing them automatically as he ran downstairs to find some clothes. The child rested on the console, still sleeping, to make it easier to scan. The Doctor returned moments later with white baby clothes, a small blanket, hot water bottle and teddy. He watched the screen as the results began to flow in, and he dressed the child with one hand expertly. It must have been a thousand years, give or take, since he'd had to do such a thing with his granddaughter on occasion when she was first born, he hasn't expected his memory to be so clear.

From what the TARDIS gathered, the child was female, had a twin sister whom had died at birth, and had only been alive outside her mother's womb for 8 hours. He smiled down at the child, she was beautiful, and she looked like Clara. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear before placing her gently on a chair, wrapping her in the blanket and giving her the teddy, the hot water bottle close. He was lucky he'd put her down, because he would have dropped her otherwise.

She was Time Lord.


	6. Chapter 6

Clara was in tears. The gag hasn't been removed, her head was throbbing, her second born was still born and her first born was taken from her. She couldn't fight back, however much she'd tried. She was exhausted from giving birth and she was chained up. However hard she'd tried to kick the bitch behind this, her legs were far too weak to reach her. She had come to the point of accepting the fact she couldn't fight back yet, and decided to wait until she'd rest for a short time and she was freed enough for the guards liking. She tried to keep that thought from her head. These complete strangers would have power over her at first, but the more she rested, the more she knew she'd be able to fight back. She doubted she'd be allowed to sleep while they used her, so she tried to sleep for the remaining few minutes. How long had passed since her second child had been born? She had been given an hour to rest. It couldn't have been too long, or had she lost track of time whilst mourning and begging for the Doctor?

# # #

He stared down at the child, sleeping peacefully in the warmth of the blankets. That was his child. His and Clara's child. He swallowed nervously, hitting the scanner as hard as he could, letting out a pained yell. He looked at the screen, reading the information again. Only one part stood out to him.

Twin sister whom had died at birth.

He wasn't really sure what he was supposed to feel at this point. He had a child. A daughter. A beautiful daughter, safe and in his care. Yet he'd lost a daughter. A perfect little girl. He'd have two perfect little girls if he hadn't given up completely immediately. He'd have Clara stood by his side too. He blamed himself over and over for losing them, he felt like he was about to sink back into a pit of despair, but he didn't. And the only reason he didn't was because of the sounds of a crying child. He snapped back to reality and went to pick his daughter up, smiling weakly down at her.

"Hello there..." He whispered whilst adjusting his arms a little to support her head. "I suppose you're hungry... Look on the bright side, I promised you I'd find your parents. I found one of them. Now we just have to find your mummy." He laughed weakly. "I'm your daddy then. It's been a while since I was a daddy. A long while. But I'm sure it'll be fun to be one again." He placed a small kiss on the child's forehead, who responded by closing her eyes and scrunching up her nose. Her feet and hands came up to reach for his face.

"Not yet, give yourself a year and you'll be running around this ship, talking like you'll never be allowed to talk again. You'll be talkative if you're anything like me." He brushed his thumb over her cheek gently, wandering off with her to find something to feed her with.

# # #

The Veiled Mistress was enjoying watching Clara's pain, but she was enjoying what was in front of her far, far more. A fully developed foetus being dissected by her left hand. She watched it manoeuvre around the child's eternal organs. Her binary vascular system would be particularly expensive, but she was almost completely sure she already had a deal set up with a company based in cloning for the dead child. They could clone the DNA from the foetus from the child and create an army of Time Lords, and then she could buy them back, spark a new time war. She let her left hand sew up the child and leave her in the state she was when she was first born, before picking her hand back up and reattaching it to her arm. She herself was a failed clone, her features had been drastically disfigured during the process, and her body parts could be easily removed and reattached without pain. She hoped that one of the clones would fail, just so she could have the pleasure of taking it back. She might keep it as a pet. That would be wonderful, a pet time lord.

_She was hiding, she was young and scared. The last time she had seen any other living being - alien or not - a whip had come cracking down on her, leaving a deep cut down her back. That had been hours ago, and it was still bleeding. Though it hurt, she didn't cry. That woman, the woman with the veil, the woman who never showed her face, had left out the salt this time. The pain was never the same without the salt. She stood up shakily and opened her eyes to look around the room she was in. The same as always. Red, with a constant throbbing noise. It sounded almost like a heartbeat, but this was the noise coming from the machine, not from her chest. The next thing she knew, there was a heavy breathing behind her. She turned around and screamed, both her first and second mouth let out and ear piercing scream. The woman was behind her. Before she could scream any more, the whip was brought down on her stomach, digging in once more. This time it was worse, when the whip pulled back, she could feel her veins being pulled with it. Her stomach, her kidney, pulled out. She felt like she was very suddenly going to throw up, which she did. She threw up the contents of her stomach, falling to her knees. The woman swiftly pulled the whip out of her organs, ripping a hole in both of them, and walked off. She fell onto the floor and began to cry. She was shakily gasping for air, trying to put her organs back inside her body. She threw up a little again, her bleeding, ripped stomach incredibly sensitive. She didn't move. She lay in her vomit, bringing her hands out of her body and looking at them - blood stained. She let them fall beside her and fell unconscious._

The Mistress quickly shook the thought from her head. Her hands were rested firmly on her stomach, and her small second mouth vomited from the memory, and the thick drop of sick trailed down her cheek. Those were times long ago. But that pet Time Lord was going to suffer for it.

# # #

"Name!" He turned on the spot, smiling at the infant he'd placed on the table. "You need a name!" He picked up the bottle of milk he'd been preparing, making sure everything was just right before carrying it over to feed her. "Your mother isn't here though, and I'm useless with names. Really, she'd slap me if I named you something like Apulapicia, or supernova. Probably best if you choose your name." He put the bottle to her mouth and she started drinking the milk hungrily.

"What do you think then?" He asked softly. He couldn't help but notice how much she looked like her mother. He hoped his daughter had inherited something from him - hopefully a love of bow ties. After a few moments she started to gurgle, so he took the bottle from her mouth.

"Don't worry, I speak baby." He smiled. She gurgled again and his face fell in seconds. "Of all the names in the Universe..." He muttered. "Why that one? I mean, it explains a lot. I understand why the Daleks wanted you." He quickly shut up; he couldn't tell her about that, he wouldn't let it happen.

"Oswin Oswald. I'm your father, and I'm going to change history for you. I'm going to save you."


	7. Chapter 7

Clara woke up suddenly, pulled upright by several of that woman's men. Or, she presumed they were all men. She had no idea, they were aliens. What aliens could do with her was unknown; after all, they were ALIENS. She hoped time and time again their biology wasn't even similar to hers. If it was, she was already dreading the worst. She was truly terrified. She lifted her hands to fight back, only to see they had been cuffed. They had cuffed her hands while she was sleeping, they had made the hand cuffs around her wrists while she was sleeping to cause her maximum discomfort, and it was already working. The skin was sore and red, and she hated it. But she was Clara; she wasn't going to do what they wanted, not without putting up a fight first.

She knew the Doctor was looking for her, he'd find her at some point, but it'd help if she was actually alive and free when he found her. Maybe he'd already arrived here, found the child that had survived. She wanted to close her eyes and mourn for her second daughter, but she couldn't. Not now. She refocused her mind on escaping, and began to examine the creatures that had her. One of them was the alien that had covered her forehead in slime earlier, which was hurting so much by now. It was also the alien she'd seen kill a man. She'd seen how; cover him completely in the slime. Had he choked? She disregarded that; she'd just avoid the slime. The others, on close examination, looked as though they would be able to hurt her if they were told to. The more she watched, the more she realised they were brain dead puppets that followed orders but couldn't think for themselves. That made things much easier. If she escaped without the only alien that seemed to have a brain, the others wouldn't tell him she'd escaped, and he wouldn't know unless he turned to face her - which he didn't seem to do very often.

She was walked down a long corridor, now she started looking at her surroundings. There were cells either side of her. She could hear aliens screaming, children wailing and calling for parents. She was almost frozen to the spot, but she was still being dragged along. She continued on, only stopping when she was thrown into a cell. She turned on the spot to run out, but it was locked behind her. The alien muttered orders to the puppets.

"Keep it locked up, don't let it out until our buyer comes. This one's worth a lot. I don't care what you have to do, keep it alive." Clara was annoyed at being called an 'it', but the orders to keep her alive have her some comfort. The puppets nodded and went to guard her, the alien walking off alone.

# # #

He walked down the TARDIS corridors, his daughter in his arms.

"My daughter." He smiled. "You're my daughter." He repeated. "My daughter and only my daughter - You're my little girl." He kept saying it, repeating the same phrase in as many ways as he could think of doing so. He was ecstatic, he had a daughter. "Daddy's little princess, I understand that now. You fit it perfectly. Therefore..." He began, pushing a door open and walking inside with her. He flipped a light switch, turning down the dimmer switch next to it and smiling. "You'll need a room fit for one."

The room was incredibly huge, the walls painted TARDIS blue; the ceiling was completely transparent, showing every star in the quadrant of space they were in. He looked up, pointing at a few for her.

"That one there is Raxacoricafalapatoriois. And..." He paused, his eyes looking for another star he recognised. "There! That's Sol. It's a boring name, I know. But that star is the centre of the solar system your mummy comes from. The third planet from the star, Earth. Home to 7 billion humans. And your mummy is one of them." He sighed sadly; walking over to the cot he hadn't seen since the Pond's had discovered Melody was their daughter. He placed Oswin down gently.

"Well then Oswin, if you insist on that being your name, it shall be. After all, it's a beautiful name." He leaned over, his hair flipping in front it his eyes. She giggled and reached up to grab onto it. He let out a small laugh and stood up so it was out of her reach.

"You need some sleep, so you do that. You sleep, and I'll get you some books from the library to fill the bookshelves with. When you wake up, we'll go and find mummy. I promise you that, we'll find her. I know it."

# # #

The Mistress was sat alone upon a bed - her personal chambers. She paused, looking into a mirror. The veil blocked even her view of her features, but she was alone. This was the one time she could remove it. She took it off slowly as always, cautious of anyone catching her.

For someone that was a mutated clone, she was beautiful. She had perfectly parted, chocolate brown hair down to her shoulders, her fringe fell over her eyes. She brushed it back to look at herself more clearly, deep brown eyes staring back at her, looking much older than they ever were. She also had a small nose, rounded face and thin lips. She had been assured that she looked like her parents, or the parents of the girl that was cloned, though the second mouth was a fault. But that wasn't what made her keep her face hidden, she'd seen worse.

It was the eyes. They looked like his eyes. She was trying to kill him, lure him here with his friend and her child. She was trying to kill the Time Lord, but her eyes reminded her of him, she almost went as far as to say they were _his_ eyes; but that was completely impossible, ridiculous even.

She couldn't look at her face, because it reminded her of his friend, her trap. It was a weakness to feel any sort of sympathy towards them, just because they shared facial features. She replaced the veil hurriedly, not wanting to look at her face a moment longer.


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry it's been so long to update. I've been working on this chapter too long for something so short. Got really side tracked recently, so here's something to make up for it. Someone's headcannon I read on Tumblr is inspiring the end of this story, so it'll be great for your feels I promise you. There's probably only going to be one or two more chapters after this one, so we're near the end. Please review, I'd love to hear who you all think The Veiled Mistress really is!

Also, to the anon who asked for a Whouffle make-out scene as a review after chapter one, I'm working on one. I just want to keep this rated T. But there will be one available for you sooner or later.

* * *

The Doctor was reluctant when she woke up. He could take her with him, but that would put her in danger. At the same time, she was only a child, she couldn't be left alone, she was hours old for crying out loud! He picked her up from her cot. Sighing, he held her as tightly as he could.

"Oswin, you're going to have to be very very brave now, we're searching for mummy, and I promise we'll find her, but she might be hurt. You have to be brave so you can help me help her by not crying and attracting attention. You must stay perfectly silent." He placed a finger to her lips softly. "Do you understand?" She stayed silent in his arms, and he hoped that was a yes.

# # #

Clara's head was throbbing, she wanted to cry and scream, she kept forgetting where she was and her need to escape, she didn't understand what was happening to her and she wanted the Doctor, because he was all she could think about, she didn't care if she had him here or against the console, she just wanted him. And then the next second she hated him completely, she loathed the fact that his voice and face were stuck in her head. A moment later, she'd but lusting after him again.

These feelings came and went, driving her insane. She sat down and began to cry, what was happening to her?

It was a few moments before she decided what she needed to focus on, getting out of here. She was now trying as hard as she could to get out, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn't think of anything, it was like something was stopping her brain working, maybe something corroding its way into her head. She shakily put her hand up to her head, the throbbing, it was in the same place that the creature had left a trail of its slime - it was corroding through her skin and affecting her brain. Her arm fell down to her side, and if she could process the though properly, she would have been terrified.

# # #

The Mistress was resting when she was informed of the girl's condition, and she panicked.

"Our client expects her in perfect condition!" She snapped, standing up and dressing herself quickly.

"Including any and all bodily functions, which buffoon did this to her?! Have him slaughtered, I expect him for dinner. Medium-rare." She smirked and walked out, heading straight for the cells. She had pulled another guard with her, one that might be able to make himself useful - he'd been a nice appetiser - and help her.

This was unusual behaviour for her. Normally she would have let the girl rot and die. But she had carried the child of a Time Lord, some people had a fetish for women like that - and this girl was the only one in the Universe. She'd sell for more than anything she'd ever sold. So this girl had to be cared for. The Veiled Mistress decided the guards were too stupid to be allowed to care for something as important as her, so she took her with her when she returned to her room.

The Mistress placed the unconscious girl on the floor. She'd wake up sooner or later. She made sure the chains were tight on her, not wanting her to be able to escape. She lifted her veil to look at the girl properly; it was almost like she was looking into a mirror. She brought the veil back down, determined to fix the similarities. She stood up, taking a dagger from her pocket and putting it to the girls face.

# # #

The Doctor ran out of the TARDIS, Oswin in a papoose, it wasn't elegant, but he couldn't leave her alone and Clara needed saving. He took out his sonic, scanning the area around, his other hand diving into his pocket. He pulled out a rather strange looking device, cobbled together out of old bits and bobs. He put his sonic into it, letting it download the information quickly. The Doctor was impatient, hitting it on the side as hard as he could.

"Come on!" He muttered through gritted teeth. "That woman is my fiancée!" He didn't have to wait a second longer, hearing and ear piercing scream. "CLARA!" He yelled, running towards the source of the noise quickly. He tried his best not to disturb his daughter, but it wasn't long before she too started crying.

"Oswin..." He groaned, kissing her forehead. "No crying, not now, we're saving mummy." He told her whilst sonicing a door which didn't open. He put an arm around his daughter, and then kicked the door with his left foot. It hurt, but the door swung open. Clara's screams were now louder, and the woman standing over her with a blade stood up. She dropped it when putting the veil back over her face and it cut Clara's cheek. Clara gasped in pain, shakily raising a hand - at least she could think, feel pain, and process movement again. The Doctor rushed to her side, helping her to sit up and kissing her forehead.

"Clara, it's okay. I'm here, it's okay." He whispered, holding her tightly in his arms. He took the papoose with Oswin in off and passed it to Clara, letting her hold her daughter. The Doctor stood up and grabbed the wrist of the woman.

"What have you been doing with Clara?" He asked quietly, looking back at her for a moment. "Who are you anyway?" He asked, not giving her time to answer before ripping away the veil from her face. He looked at it and gasped.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm so so sorry..." He shakily moved his hand to the woman's face. "I'm sorry." He repeated. He was at a complete and utter loss for words. It hurt him to see this; he knew exactly who she was.


	9. Chapter 9

This is the last chapter guys. I hope you really liked reading this. If you have any ideas or suggestions for another fanfic you want me to write, just pm me or leave a review with suggestions. Reviews of this one anyway are just as great guys.

* * *

The Doctor held his gaze with the woman, even when she tried to look away from him. She was a great deal shorter than him, staring straight ahead at his chest. He put his hand on her cheek and frowned.

"How could you? Of all the things I've ever seen, ever heard, this is by far the strangest. Do you even know who you are yourself?" He asked. "Of course you don't. You aren't enough of an idiot to do this knowingly. No one I've ever met has been. But that's no excuse! You shouldn't be doing this anyway. Not to anyone, least of all Clara."

He turned around, looking back at her and Oswin. Clara was staring up at him, holding onto her daughter for dear life. He nodded to her and she stood up, walking out of the room quickly. He wandered after her, closing the door leaving only him and the woman inside the room. He turned his attention back to her.

"Now, I think we have some talking to do." He locked the door, going and sitting on her bed, gesturing for her to sit beside him. She walked over reluctantly and began to talk, telling him everything he wanted to know.

# # #

Clara reached the TARDIS with ease. When she was inside, the first thing she did was look for the new bedroom which she found quickly, the TARDIS had placed it next to hers and the Doctors. She stopped in the doorway, looking around and smiling. She looked down to Oswin and laughed.

"Oh, your father is wonderful. He really is." She placed a soft kiss on the girl's forehead, looking down at her eyes, her father's eyes. She sat herself down, bringing her daughter closer. The child's hands reached out, her small fingers entwining in her mother's hair. Clara felt a few tears spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks. This beautiful little girl, this impossible little girl, was her daughter. It warmed her heart, watching her fingers flexing and pulling gently at her hair. It didn't pain her; her daughter's grip wasn't strong enough to hurt. It was reassurance that she was okay, she was real, she was alive and she was safe. Clara laughed softly, and Oswin giggled with her, her mother's breath tickling her stomach. Clara brought her down from where she had been holding her, instead pulling her close to her chest. She let her thumb trace the child's cheeks gently, listening to that enchanting laugh once more. It was the happiest noise she had ever heard, the most precious pitch to penetrate her ears. Oswin blinked, looking at her mother's expression curiously, the smile and happiness with the tears. She didn't understand how someone could be so obviously happy but cry at the same time. She thought something was wrong, so reached up for her face to offer comfort. Clara leaned forwards and kissed her forehead, her hair falling as a curtain around the two girls. Oswin first pulled at her mother's hair, then reached up for her nose and burst out laughing again.

Clara stood up slowly and put Oswin down in her cot, leaning over to watch her smiling face.

"Mummy's going to do some cooking." She explained. "Soufflés. If they come out alright, they'll taste wonderful. Something for you, me and daddy to eat when he gets back. One day, I'll teach you how to make them. As soon as I learn of course." She laughed. Oswin watched her closely, still looking at her mother's smile and tears. Clara left her with another kiss on the forehead, letting her rest in safety before going to find a kitchen.

# # #

What had started out as a calm discussion had turned into a heated argument, the woman yelling at the Doctor angrily.

"You never told me, no one did. You expect me to believe these lies?! I should have you killed, sliced and eat you!" She spat at him. He simply stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

"Really?" He questioned. "Feel like eating your father?"

"You are NOT my father!" She roared. "I'm a clone!"

"An experiment, the clone of a dead foetus. She was cloned and adopted by the woman that sold the original off. That woman tortured her, so for revenge when she sells a dead foetus off, she'll adopt a failed child and do the same to her. Use that brain of yours. You were brought up in that red room, the paradox machine." He knocked on the woman's forehead. "Hello? Anyone home? The child you sell is my dead daughter. You are my..." He trailed off, he couldn't finish the sentence. His daughter had kidnapped his wife and other daughter, selling herself to an experiment. He had to admit, it was unusual, even by his standards. And now he had the problem of dealing with her. This woman could have easily been killed in his rage, but now she was family. She was Time Lord. She was his daughter. He sat back, unable to think clearly, bringing a smirk to her face.

# # #

Clara walked outside to get some fresh air. Oswin was sleeping and her soufflé was cooking. She was content with standing by the box until she heard a yelling match between the Doctor and the woman, and she froze - she had said he wasn't her father. What had he said to her?! She ran to find him quickly.

The sight she found was awful, the Doctor had let his emotions get to him, and he was sitting numbly on the bed with the woman aiming a gun up at him. She looked up at Clara with a bitter smile pasted on her face.

"Mother." She greeted Clara, who damn near fainted at the word.

"Oswin...?" She asked, the woman rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"The dead one, a clone of her." She explained in annoyance. "Set on killing the man she must call father." She snarled, turning her attention to the Doctor again. She grabbed his chin and twisted his neck so he faced Clara. "Any last words for your fiancé?" She asked. Clara's heart broke at the sight of him. Tears were streaming down his face; he almost looked scared of this woman.

"Help our daughter." He said simply. "Please..." He whispered, looking back up at the woman and closing his eyes. The woman pulled the trigger, expecting a bullet to pierce his flesh, skull and brain, but it didn't. It pierced a neck, but not his. She looked at the body at her feet. She hadn't counted on Clara jumping in front of him, but she decided this would hurt him more than death ever could. She left him alone to watch her die.

Clara's breathing was scare now; she couldn't get enough oxygen to her brain to form anything close to a sentence. Her head twitched slightly as if she was trying to shake her head, and blood came pouring from her throat and mouth. The Doctor fell to his knees at her side.

"No, Clara..." He whispered, staring at her terrified expression. "Clara, that bullet wasn't meant for you. I should be dead on the floor; you shouldn't be dying in pain." Clara felt a few stray years falling down her cheeks, but her body had stiffened up in fear of death now. She never thought she would die, not now. She'd never even thought about dying when she was with the Doctor, it was where she felt safest, now she was dying by his feet, saving his life. She tried to choke up words, tell him for the last time that she loved him. But she couldn't. The Doctor placed his hand on her cheek softly, reassuring her that she'd be okay. She didn't hear a word of what he said. She closed her eyes and her pulse vanished. Her brain activity ceased and her lungs gave up even attempting to breathe.

The Doctor pulled the body into his arms, holding her corpse tightly and sobbing loudly in pain. He buried her head in his chest, his shirt stained with her blood.

"Please..." He whispered. "Just say it, please, come back and say it." He begged, but he knew she couldn't. And he knew this was it. She was dead, no more chances, she hadn't said it. "Run You Clever Boy, And Remember". The six words that had given her another chance at life, but she said nothing this time, and it was this that told him he had lost her forever.

# # #

His journey back to the console with her corpse was a long one; he placed her gently on the floor so she looked at if she was sleeping. He decided he would cremate her, sprinkle her ashes amongst a nebular so she could have a new life, a life as another person, maybe several, but she could be the formation of a planet he'd work on one day, and he might be able to be with her once more.

The next thing he knew, he was following the smell of baking from the console room to the kitchen, and all he found was a perfectly baked soufflé in the oven. This alone reduced him to tears, the one time she had perfected her baking was the one time she'd never see it.

He had looked forward to this, having a family. Having a child and a wife. But he couldn't, all those dreams had been crushed and he had watched. He would often dream and wonder what would have happened to the days that never were if she had lived.


End file.
